The Girl
by Raven Silversea
Summary: The new Cloud Officer was a source of confusion to Mammon
1. chapter 1

**I do not own KHR, that would be Akira Amano, and the cover was created with Rinmarugames's Haunted Portait Creator**

The girl was quiet. She sat in the corner underneath the tall narrow window that looked down into the courtyard, half hidden behind the gold tinted wooden bookcase against her left shoulder. A few strands of her dark auburn hair were escaping the braid hanging over her shoulder, falling in front of her face as she leaned forward towards the book resting in her lap. She leaned back as the fingers of her right hand slowly and carefully dragged themselves down the page and tucked themselves under to flip it. She would then repeat the slow process of leaning forward towards the book and leaning back as she flipped the pages silently.

She treated their books with care, was willing to pay to infringe upon their territory, and, most importantly, was blissfully quiet, leaving them to their work without attempting to engage them in meaningless conversation. These were the only reasons that Mammon let the little Cloud escape the loud, echoing, and never ending chaos of the Varia mansion by curling up in a corner of their office. It had absolutely nothing to do with the curiosity the girl presented to them, that one who appeared to be ready to break with the next breath of wind could become the Cloud Officer so quickly. Nothing to do with it at all.

Still, they couldn't help but remember, couldn't help but analyze, the girl's actions and reactions, searching in vain for a logical explanation for the girl who acted nothing like a Cloud, except when she did.

When they had first seen her, they had been balanced on the Prince's shoulder beside the other officers, looking out over the sea of newly recruited mooks, all of whom were clamoring for attention from the Varia's finest. She, unlike the others wishing to join the Varia, had been quiet, silent in fact, standing off to the side with her arms crossed tightly over her chest and cowering back every time someone walked passed her, be they mook or member. She had been an anomaly in the crowd, looking up at the officers with bright, wide, blue eyes. She had had her bottom lip tucked underneath her teeth the entire time Squalo had put the fear of God, or perhaps more accurately the Devil, into the mooks. The officers had then walked, Mammon using their Mist flames to float, through the crowd, collecting their share of the mooks which to any not in the know would have appeared random but those with the knowledge of Dying Will Flames would be able to see each officer pick their fellows. It had been Mammon who approached the girl first, assuming she was a soft Mist. They remembered pausing and shaking their head before moving on when they felt the newly active Cloud flames lashing around the girl nervously. She was Ottabio's to claim, not theirs.

It had only been a short time into the mooks' training, Ottabio having constantly complained about how the girl wouldn't speak and would flinch when anyone raised their voice within her vicinity, when the Cloud Officer had been late to a meeting. They remembered Squalo complaining loudly as he marched from the room, the others following the Rain carefully, as he searched for the traitorous Cloud. Why none of the Clouds had disposed of him in the six years since the Cradle Affair was unknown and had been constant source of frustration to the other officers who could do nothing about it. That was when they found her, an unnamed mook standing in the Cloud Officer's office, blood drying on hands that were barely clenched by her sides as her chest heaved and her eyes sent intangible, piercing daggers across the room towards Ottabio's cooling body. She had turned to the group with her chin tilted up and blue eyes blazing. Lussuria had been the one to find her weapon of choice when he had slipped past Squalo to examine the body: a letter opener. The girl had withstood Squalo clapping her on the back and telling her that she couldn't be worse than Ottabio had been, Levi's judgemental mutterings about how he would have done it better as he turned to leave, the Prince's bloodthirsty chuckles, and Lussuria beginning to clean up the mess, but it had been Mammon, who floated onto the girl's shoulder, who had remembered that most would breakdown after such an action and had offered a place for the girl to do just that. It had been in that very corner that the newly minted Cloud Officer had quietly sobbed into her knees, away from the prying eyes of her fellow Varia.

She had become louder as the Cloud Officer, waking up her division, which had grown lazy over those six years, with a loud scream of "Wakey wakey bitches!" and the now familiar clanging of frying pans against bed frames as she charged through the barracks-like sleeping quarters at the crack of dawn. They would have charged her for waking them up inadvertently if she hadn't gifted them with the sight of sleep deprived Clouds trying to kill their young Officer and failing, tripping over each other and slamming into walls due to their own division amusing themselves with disguising the doors with illusions which, of course, caused damage to the walls and allowed them to charge the Clouds at fault.

Still, the girl was inherently a quiet soul who sought out peace amidst chaos, not in her own office but in theirs.

"Myu," they said, flipping another report over, "you may read aloud if you wish."

The girl looked over at her fellow Officer with a soft, slightly twisted, smirk. Blue eyes danced with amusement as she turned back to her book, taking the request for what it was and reading in a low, even voice that was quiet enough so as not to disturb Mammon but loud enough for them to enjoy the story as well.

"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost, the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost, from the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring, renewed shall be the blade that was broken, the crownless shall again be king."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So, another plot bunny showed up. I'm going to leave this labeled as complete because I don't want to promise something that is not a guarantee. However, if I get more ideas for this set of one-shots, I'll add to it.**

 **I'm not Japanese, and I can't draw. Safe to say I don't own KHR**

They had a very short list of people they were willing to be stuck in the middle of the woods with and an injured prince and a baby officer were not on that list. At least...they hadn't been.

They looked down into the clearing from their perch on an oak tree branch. The grass was dry and near colorless in the early morning light and curled underneath a lean-to built from sticks and bootlaces at the center of the clearing were the Cloud and Storm officers lying on top of their Varia uniform jackets. They huffed in amusement at the knot the two made, though both would deny being so close in sleep when they finally awoke. Nuage was curled almost in the foetal position on her left side, head pressing against Belphegor's chest, hands tucked against her own, and her top leg was thrown over the prince's own half-curled legs, the top one more stretched out than the other due to the splint on it. Belphegor was wrapped around his fellow officer, his legs tucked a few inches under Nuage's feet, one arm thrown over the girl's torso, and his head turned towards Nuage's hair, which was half out of her careful braid from the night before, using his outstretched arm as a pillow.

A twig snapped, and they whipped their head in the direction of the sound. A moment of silence passed. They relaxed slightly and allowed their thoughts to steal their attention once more.

It should have been an easy mission; it was actually an easy mission. The three had gone in, gathered the information they had come for, and taken care of the man they had been paid to kill. In and out, nice and clean. Except, they had only gotten about fifteen minutes away when knowledge of their infiltration began to ripple through the underworld. Instead of the planned getaway, they had had to resort to traveling back to headquarters as the crow flies which would have been fine if Belphegor hadn't broken his leg, for seemingly no reason.

They had been perched on Belphegor's shoulder as Nuage and he ran through the woods that were close enough to headquarters to be used semi-frequently to train the mooks when Belphegor had pitched forward with a yelp, twisting around as he did so and knocking them off. They had managed to cushion their fall with a quick illusion, but they were still jarred when they landed on the dead October grass. Nuage had run past the two by a few strides before she slowed and jogged back, sliding to her knees beside Belphegor who was hissing and biting his bottom lip as he tried to stand again.

Nuage had glanced over at them first, nodding when Fantasma changed into an ouroboros and they hovered above the ground at face level. "Stop," she had said, gently pushing Belphegor back against the ground. "You're going to hurt yourself more."

"The prince does not need your help, peasant!" Belphegor had spat as he shoved Nuage's hands away. The Cloud had simply pulled her hands back and rested them on her thighs, watching the Storm try once more to stand. He had managed to get one leg underneath himself and push upwards into a standing position. Nuage had kept her eyes on the ground where the prince had fallen as Belphegor took a step forward and immediately crumpled to the ground again with an unspoken whine.

"Still don't need my help?" Nuage had asked without looking at the Storm.

Belphegor had hissed at her in return and crossed his arms, looking away from her. Nuage had lifted her eyes to theirs and shrugged after a moment passed. She had then stood and brushed the grass and dirt off her pants with a practiced hand, turning from them and walking carefully to the edge of the clearing. She had hummed aimlessly as she stepped, almost tip-toeing, across the dead grass and the fallen leaves scattered about.

They had floated over the to the prince, who was very carefully not looking at either them or the girl who was collecting fallen branches amongst the trees. His arms had been crossed over his chest and his brow furrowed slightly. "I don't need her help."

"Don't need or don't want?"

Belphegor had huffed but looked at them out of the corner of his eye. "She's a peasant, Mammy. Princes don't need help from peasants."

They had looked over at the girl who was carefully setting up the basic framework of a lean-to in the center of the clearing before looking back at the prince who was also watching her. "Myu, is she really?"

Belphegor had tilted his head away from Nuage and jerked his shoulders in what could barely be called a shrug. He had remained silent for a moment, the only sound being the occasional curse Nuage let out as she put the lean-to together.

"If you're just going to sit there, the least you could do is use your wires to set up a perimeter," Nuage had called out. Belphegor had sent a glare back towards the girl but did as she suggested, sending knives flying around the clearing to pierce the sentry trees, the wire between them becoming a dangerous barrier to any who would attempt to enter the clearing.

Bel had suddenly turned towards them after Belphegor's mission was complete. "Well what would you call her?" he had demanded.

"Let her splint your leg."

Belphegor's lips had curled back as the boy glared at them.

"That's my price."

Bel had sighed. "Fine," he had said loudly.

Nuage had finished tying the last part of the frame together with her bootlaces before walking over to the prince with a long stick with the diameter of an American quarter in her hand. She had laid the stick beside Belphegor's broken leg and pulled off her jacket, ripping the bottom half of her shirt off and ripping that further into three strips which she used to tie the stick to the boy's leg. "I wouldn't walk on it," she had said as she did so. "But it should hold until someone finds us or we manage to get to Headquarters."

Belphegor had simply nodded at the girl. "Need the laces?" he had asked.

"I wouldn't say no."

After Nuage had walked back over to the partially constructed lean-to with Belphegor's bootlaces, Bel looked at Mammon. "Well?"

"An enigma," they had replied. "I would call her an enigma."

Bel had accepted their answer with an acknowledging tilt of his head as they both watched the girl set up a small camp for the night.

An enigma was right, they thought as the gray light of early morning began to shift into the golden colors of dawn. The girl refused to fit into the mold that they kept adjusting and reforming to fit her.

A branch snapped not too far from the campsite, waking the two teens who reached for their weapons as Mammon prepared illusions to trap the intruders in. Belphegor flicked a knife in the direction of the sound as the first to react.

"VOI! It's us, you shitty pieces of trash!"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Yet another chapter for this "one-shot". There is implied suicide in this one, take that warning as you will.**

 **I have never been to Japan, so it's safe to say I'm not Akira Amano and thus do not own KHR**

Mammon never wanted to see her so vulnerable again. She was Varia. Varia weren't supposed to be fragile, vulnerable... hover so close to death.

They were hovering at the end of Nuage's bed in the infirmary, watching the unconscious girl. Her long auburn hair, wavy from being bound by a braid for so long, rested against the white sheets of the bed, the vibrant color seemingly gone. White bandages climbed up her pale arms; leather shackles bound her wrists to the bed. Her blue eyes, arguably the most noticeable thing about her, had been closed for hours, leaving her face at a false peace.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Lussuria said, joining them at the foot of the bed.

"Myu." Mammon waited a moment before sighing. "Will she live?"

Lussuria nodded. "This time." He crossed his arms across his chest. Mammon let the silence stretch between them; neither needed to voice the unspoken truth. "You saved her life."

"I didn't heal her."

"You found her. Any longer, and there would have been nothing I could have done."

Mammon didn't answer. They floated over to the bedside table and settled down on it.

"I'm not sure when she'll wake up," Lussuria warned. "Or if she will."

"I'll wait. She owes me." They swung their feet over the edge of the table.

Lussuria sadly looked on the girl for a moment longer before walking away. "Let her recover before you drain her bank account, alright, darling?"

Mammon hummed, not taking their eyes off the Cloud.

The hours passed slowly, and the only ways they could tell the passage of time was Lussuria's frequent checks on Nuage's IV lines and the light that slowly crept towards the window. Squalo poked his head in for a few silent moments before leaving with a heavy sigh. Bel lingered for a longer time, quietly threatening the Cloud as he sharpened his knives, but when he left, the boy paused and grabbed the girl's hand. "The Prince has not given you permission to die, changeling," he hissed before releasing her hand and walking away with his shoulders hunched around his ears. "Don't let her die, Mammy" was the quiet whisper that reached their ears as the boy left.

They had no intention of allowing such an occurrence.

Time was money, yet they stayed by this girl's side for hours doing nothing. Every time the thought to leave crossed their mind, they kept thinking about the Varia's strangest assassin. The girl who kept track of her divisions expenses and turned in the reports without having to be asked. The girl who spent long nights helping Squalo with his own division paperwork when the paperwork he had to do has the Varia's de facto head took up too much of his time. The girl who had taught her division to fear anything smaller than them. The girl who read aloud and shared her adventures with them. The girl who would drag Belphegor to the roof to watch the sunrise and the stars come out.

Yet all of that was framed by the girl who had left behind one of the bloodiest hits the Varia had ever done with no explanation on why she felt the need to go above what was required. The girl who at times would look at them with cold eyes that forced them to remember that she was a killer. The girl who had quietly, viciously, raged against Don Vongola when she had learned why the Varia had no boss; they still didn't know if the old man had discovered all of her traps yet.

None of those memories lent a clue to why the girl balanced so precariously between life and death, to why she had chosen this path. They stayed by her side because she owed them an explanation, that's what they had chosen to go with.

It was sometime late at night when the girl, who had been so still for so long, moved. A hand pulled against the shackles restraining it, and her face twisted up and turned to the side. They didn't make a sound as the girl turned her head towards them and slowly opened her eyes. Blue eyes that they hadn't seen for hours looked at them. "Why?" Nuage croaked, eyes filling with tears.

"You haven't finished the book yet."

A tear fell, then another, and soon the girl was sobbing. They reached over and placed their tiny hand on the top of her head.


End file.
